Dentist's Office
by Lee Kiuya
Summary: "Theo raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, now is the time I stand up and leave before you drag me into your evil genius plan to cook Granger's brains until she likes you. I do not wish to make out with Dementors, thank you very much. Theo-out!" I like my Theo laconic and my Draco hedonic. Fluff and smut lay ahead.
1. Sweet smell of sedation

First story ever published, whop whop! I hope you guys find it not-a-loss-of-time and I'd really appreciate constructive criticism!

Rated M for future chapters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot, characters and all belong to the one and only J. Rowling

* * *

It was beyond her understandings why in Merlin's name was she to deal with such things. She was a professional. Her job had precise purposes and her abilities, despite advanced, had their limits. This was ridiculous. Weren't there specialists for this? Special specialists? In all honesty, her first reaction when Draco Malfoy stepped in the small, but sparkly clean and comfortable, _muggle_ dentist's office, that just happened to be hers, was to choke on pure air. Even Albus Dumbledore's presence wouldn't be that scandalous, albeit his aura and such. No, the tall blonde in his late 20's, wearing an excessively large coat with a hood, brought a whole new meaning of the saying "out of place". Something about his chin being so high in the air as if daring for somebody to recognize him, and his eyes avoiding her own in order to throw a cautious look behind him as if fearing somebody actually would, told her he might not be here to disrupt her peace. At least not for that alone.

He stood under the doorframe for the longest and most awkward time possible before he carefully closed the door behind him, leaving them alone in the cabinet. She must have had an odd expression on her face because he snorted and regained his well known arrogance.

"Nice to see you too, Granger. Close your mouth before you catch a fly."

His handsome features stretched into a mocking smile, only not entirely convincing. He took his coat off while she watched him closely from above the frame of her glasses as if he were a dangerous animal lurking around its prey. She had last heard of the man while reading through Daily Prophet about his promotion from assistant to Head of the Department of Intoxicating Substances and about his outstanding success in developing antidotes. She hadn't put much thought in it, only taking a brief moment to fantasize where she'd be now if she had stayed in Magical London and accepted one of the countless positions quite literally thrown at her feet in the Ministry. But her current career had been her choice and her salvation, and with time, it turned into her passion. Following her parents' steps began with a desperate need to escape from the suffocating hands of the War's aftermath and the overwhelming expectations suddenly everybody had of her. Marriage, political career, social appearance – it left her gasping for air and she gladly ran head over heels towards the Medical University of London. Here she was, 9 years later, in her very own establishment for dental care, being bothered by the last person she could imagine stepping through her front door. She snapped out of her mental monologue and pointed the chair in the middle. Malfoy nodded stiffly, once again too uncomfortable to be arrogant and sat down awkwardly, eyes on her. She sighted audibly from her place behind the desk which made a few strands of hair that had escaped her practical bun dance around her face. She reached for the phone on her right and pressed a button for a few seconds until she heard her secretary's voice squeak into the her ear.

" _Yes, doc?_ "

"Stacey, please call and inform Igor I'll have him an hour later. Don't forget to apologize."

" _Sure thing, doc. Did the mister who came in a bit ago is your…_ "

"Stacey."

" _Party pooper._ "

Hermione huffed and closed the phone. She really needed to keep a more formal attitude towards her employees. Her eyes finally lifted from the desk and met Malfoy's. She couldn't help but let a chuckle slip through her lips. His brow furrowed and his lips became a thin line.

"Do you think this is funny, Granger? Should I remind you that pipsqueak of a secretary you have thinks we're doing Merlin knows what, alone?"

She threw him a deadly sneer and regained her composure.

"For your information, she thinks none of that. And I can't help it when the Draco Malfoy-Almighty is gracing my humble workplace in the most atrocious excuse for a muggle outfit I have ever witnessed."

"Look who's talking! You haven't changed the slightest from that shapeless bag of a teenage girl you were in school. Such a shame, Granger, you could have turned out nicely if you put a bit more effort."

"You have exactly zero say in what I do with my own being, so stuff it. What do you want anyway? I don't have time to babysit."

"You have an hour." He pointed out, brushing an invisible spot off his shirt.

She lifted a delicate brow.

"And you haven't answered my question."

"In fact, Granger, I am here to receive medical attention."

Godric, help her. She'd be lying if she said it hadn't crossed her mind. Why else would he dare show his aristocratic arse in Muggle London in the middle of the day?

"I'm fairly sure you can take care of a toothache on your own, Malfoy."

"Do you think I haven't tried anything possible before coming here?" He hissed angrily.

He even crossed his arms like an offended child and looked away, a faint redness staining his cheeks. She let out an annoyed sight and stood up from her place. Just as she did that he sank considerably deeper into the dental chair and gripped the handles on both sides hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. His face was becoming a similar shade of colour less.

"Look, Gra… Doctor Granger, I did not come here to lose nether my time not yours and I would appreciate if you act as the professional you and the whole damn world seems to claim you are, alright?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard and kept following her movements like she was the dangerous animal and he was her prey. Hermione had frozen mid-step unable to register what had just come out of this man's mouth. When she finally did she nearly exploded with uncontrollable laughter. Oh, luck really was on her side today, alright. She let a modest, full of pity smile on her lips and took a few steps towards Malfoy.

"You needn't worry. I'm here to do my job. Now, lay back and open up."

He looked not the least bit calmer but demonstrated admirable bravery as he got fully on the chair and put his head on the pillow.

"Open up." She repeated.

"Do not tell anyone. Not a soul."

"You're far from the most exciting news for me to run around gossiping about you. Now stop being a wimp."

He nodded nervously as if she had just reassured him. Hermione pulled a drawer next to her open and took out a mouth mirror and a dental explorer.

"Where's the pain?" If she'll have to deal with him, might as well just treat him like any other patient. For the most part.

"Up, on my left." Then he noticed the tools in her hands. "For the love of Salazar, Granger, what are those? You said you'd do your job, as far as my knowledge goes that doesn't include stabbing your patients! I'm sorry I called you names in school." He choked the last bit out in a desperate whine. He really was terrified. She almost took pity on him. Almost.

"I have to examine the problem, Malfoy. Stop acting like a five year old. It won't hurt."

He stared at her for a moment and then obediently opened his mouth and focused his eyes somewhere above her head.

"There is an inflammation going on there, that's for sure." She mumbled more to herself as she was inspecting the swollen gum around his tooth.

"Hmm." She furrowed her brow and made a few more noises, lost in her thoughts.

He was staring at her face with almost burning intensity until her humm-ing broke his patience.

"Wiu ha t tai ei aut?" He tried asking. She pulled her hands away.

"What?"

"Will you have to take it out?"

"I'll have to open it."

"And how do you plan on doing that? Poking it with that thing until it gets tired and opens up itself?"

Hermione lightly touched the ill tooth with the mirror and he nearly jumped off the chair.

"Are you out of your right mind, woman?" He held on his cheek and threw her a hateful look.

"Any more clever remarks on how I do what I do?"

He narrowed his eyes and grunted.

"Good." She pushed back a strand of hair in front of her face and looked into his opened mouth again.

"I'll sedate you and then we'll work on it." She always talked to her patients, saying what she was about to do and how. It calmed her down and helped her concentrate.

"O ell no!" He tried standing up but she pushed him firmly with one hand on the chest and forced him to fall back.

"Should I poke your tooth again and see how that works?"

"-itch"

"I'll prefer to think you meant to say witch."

She prepared a needle and placed it on the end of the gun.

"You'll feel a sting and then you won't feel a thing."

She broke through the gum and squirted the sedative in. Impressively enough, he stood still like a rock, only a small, tortured tear rolling off his eye.

"There we go. You'll lose sensitivity in a few seconds."

To her surprise he let a smile – a smile, not a sneer – grace his face, and to her further astonishment he let out a soft chuckle.

"Malfoy? Are you alright?"

"Your hair looks like a halo of weeds around your head, Her-mi-o-nee –" Her name rolled off his sedated mouth like a drunken song and she found herself pouting her lips in an overexaggerated annoyance. But then Malfoy giggled and she couldn't keep her mouth from spreading in a genuine smile, because who thought Draco Malfoy could get high on sedative!

"You're pretty." He suddenly became very serious, his face almost stern.

"I – well, thank you –"

To her utter terror he lifted his hand and moved it uncomfortably close to her face, making her whole body stretch a few inches backwards and away, but he put his index finger forward and – with an intense concentration that made a valley between his eyebrows, booped her nose.

Hermione felt a rush of hotness climb up her neck and cheeks because the whole scene was downright adorable, more than house elves with tiny hats and cats altogether.

"Malfoy, what do you think you are doing?" Great, her voice was shaky, way to go Miss Professionalism.

"Your nose is pretty."

"Look, as much as I enjoy a good compliment, I need to treat your tooth before the sedative wears out."

And just then, everything went to absolute hell.


	2. Check without a mate

Your lovely comments and reviews really made the process glide on like butter. Thank you so much and please leave a review!

* * *

Hermione didn't know what hit her first – the sudden realization something very bad was about to happen or the large male palm across her face, the latter sending her a few steps to her left. Dumbfounded she put a hand over her flaming side and stared at Draco, who was now positively looking insane. Eyes as large as saucers and breath so fast she thought he might be hyperventilating, he was sitting on the chair paralyzed. With small, careful steps and both hands raised in an attempt to show him she meant no harm, Hermione moved towards him.

"Do not come an inch closer" he hissed.

She swallowed hard and mustered an encouraging smile in hope of calming him down.

"Okay– okay, I'm standing here, don't worry."

"You crazy– stay away from me! What do you want? I have nothing to give you anymore. I don't want to give you any more! I'll kill you–"

His face was an ugly mask of fear and anger, tears threatening to go down his pale cheeks. She took the chance when he went to grab his wand from his trousers and jumped with all her height and weight on top of him, forcing him to flop backwards, successfully hitting both his head on the handle and her forehead in his elbow.

He immediately started struggling against his restraint but she quickly took hold of his shoulders and pinned him down. The position was anything but comfortable and not only physically.

"Malfoy! Draco, stop this right now! If you swing at me one more time, I swear to God, I will not hesitate to castrate you, do you hear?"

He immediately stopped wrestling, only the pained look remaining on his features.

Hermione almost slapped herself this time.

"Who am I, Draco?"

"Aunt– Auntie Bella." he whispered in his most childishly terrified and muted down voice she never imagined he owned.

She let out an exaggerated puff and looked him straight in the eye, remembering how she handled Harry's similar fits whenever she sedated him before a treatment. Stupid, stupid Hermione. Of course wizards would react particularly to muggle chemistry. Of course Harry would almost Arvada her that first time he came with a gum infection _after_ he said he fancied her a bit in Second Year. _Of-merry-course_.

"Draco Lucious Malfoy, I, Hermione Jean Granger am no other but myself and it would do you good to remember that. Would you kindly stop trying to murder me?"

It took him a few moments but the fog in his mind seemed to lift and he focused his eyes on her.

"Hermione?"

And then he did the second most unexpected thing that day and wrapped his arms around her body locking her in a tight embrace. She was forced to lean on his body fully, only her bum left in the air because she was definitely _not_ sitting on his crotch. Hermione felt his sigh on the side of her neck and the palpable relaxation of his stiffened muscles. The position would have been comical if it weren't for her shock and the beginning of a cramp in her right leg.

"Malfoy. What are you doing?"

"I am so sorry."

"That's it, you're still intoxicated, let's get you a lavage–"

"I'm fine, Granger. Just sit still for a moment."

Well, her leg was already a lost cause anyway.

"Alright."

They laid like that for what seemed more than a couple of minutes until he finally sat up, arms still tight around her and face buried in the crook of her shoulder.

"I could sue you for malicious intent and an attempted, very successfully, intoxication." He muttered.

"I could sue you for privacy violation."

"You wouldn't."

"Then _you_ shouldn't. Could you please let go."

His arms immediately fell off. She felt her back relax from the uncomfortable angle and her leg pulsating with irritation.

* * *

Draco's consciousness suddenly caught up with him – he had just slapped and then hugged the Hermione Granger, war heroine, tooth healer and the _absolutely last person to slap and hug_ , not necessarily in the same order. He raised from his spot all of a sudden, whispered an apology and went straight for the door, grabbing his coat in the process.

"Wait, Malfoy– " she got to him before he could open and disappear. "You needn't worry, okay? We can– hell, I don't know, talk about this maybe? You're only the first pureblood to be treated with dental sedation, at least in my presence and the second non-muggleborn ever. If you could just– "

His jaw flexed with anger. He just shared, against his will, one of his most traumatizing memories from his _dandy_ childhood with, coincidentally, his childhood nemesis' best friend and she wanted to turn him into a lab rat.

"And what, Granger, stay for a cup of tea and a casual dissection? If I were you I'd do my fair share of research before sticking questionable substances in my patients."

"Oh, don't be such a dramatical nuisance, I was going to ask you some questions! You were the one forcing me to comfort you a minute ago."

" _Excuse me_ , I just saw my dead psychotic aunt crawl out of that big mouth of yours, how would you feel in my shoes, hm?"

She was getting pissed if the rapid blinking and enlarged nostrils were any sign. He wasn't really experiencing any regret having forced that out of her. If anything, it was a nice distraction from the porcelain face with glass eyes still burned in his mind.

"If you weren't such an incompetent potions brewer you wouldn't have had to come all the way here and mess with my schedule and personal space! You arrogant dolt! I was trying to help."

"You clearly need some instructions on how to give proper aid and how to not traumatize your patients."

"You sure don't seem that traumatized."

"I will be if I have to look a minute longer at that atrocious excuse for an outfit."

"It's work clothes! I could probably make a tent out of that coat. Did you intend to hide in it? You should have covered that streetlight of a hair you have."

"That was petty. What's a streetlight anyway?"

She took a deep breath and forced her temper down.

"How did you even get here alive?"

"I apparated, obviously. Yes, Granger, with the needed maneuvers considered beforehand, do not give me that Mcgonagall look."

She waved her hands between them as if to chase a fly away.

"Look, as much as I enjoy a throwback to those lovely years of torture in school, I'd really appreciate if we could maybe leave it for a more comfortable time and place?"

His initial confused expression stretched into a confident smirk.

"Are you asking me out on a _date_ , Granger? I must admit, I never knew you were that straightforward about those types of things. You know, there was this nickname you had among our classmates that went along the lines of Granger-danger if I remember correctly."

The sound of her teeth gritting was blissful music to his ears.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Malfoy. I need to examine your reaction properly and maybe connect some dots. Of course, it's my treat since I know you wouldn't comply if there isn't something in it for you. And for your information, the nickname started from Ronald and Harry.

"I'm reserving my right to ask about the origin of it when I can embarrass you publicly. I'm also definitely not letting you pick the place because I don't trust your aesthetic judgement."

"Have it your way but I'm not feeding your silver-spoon-up-the-arse pretenses. Choose something relatively affordable."

They started at each other daringly for a few moments until her lips trembled with pent-up laughter and soon broke into a giggle, the sound ringing off the walls and making it sound like a symphony. He found himself smiling at her, half because she looked absolutely ridiculous shaking like that and partly because it was contagious, her carelessness.

The phone rang cutting them off and she went to pick it up.

" _Doc, Igor is here and he said he'll take his own tooth out if he has to wait a minute more." There was a brief pause and a background voice. "He also said he wants to know who you've replaced him with." Another pause. "And if he's more handsome._ "

Hermione rubbed her temple and chuckled.

"Tell him he's irreplaceable and he can come in as soon as my patient goes out."

But Draco was already closing the door behind him shouting "8pm, Tuesday!" from the corridor.

She closed the phone and rolled her eyes impressively high for no one to see.

"Ambiguous git."


	3. Nefarious

"I thought I was clear enough when I said I will not be spoiling you this evening."

Not that she couldn't afford a nice dinner, of course. But this was _not_ a date and she was definitely not trying to impress anybody.

"What makes you think you weren't?

"Goodness, Malfoy, you look like you've a photoshoot for Witch Weekly's "most eligible bachelors" page!"

Draco looked down to his attire, naturally all black apart from the light gray shirt, slightly unbuttoned from the collar down to his sternum. On their own, the garments would have seemed endlessly simple and ordinary but there was _something_ about how they sat on him and the tangible confidence he wore as an accessory that caught the eyes of a few nearby witches (and one wizard!). His hair was let loose from the usual sleeked-back fashion, a few strands falling freely on his forehead, framing it nicely. It annoyed her to no end.

"I'm afraid I don't own anything that fits your absence of taste."

She stabbed his arm with an elbow but he didn't seem hurt at all. Just the opposite, he had the audacity to start laughing. Out loud. Like the human being she had a hard time remembering he was. He managed to collect himself.

"If you could just see that pout of yours in a mirror. But no, honestly Granger, you look beautiful."

"Nice save."

Hermione did appreciate the compliment, though. She'd even asked Ginny for a hand when it became obvious help was needed. She chose to keep her choice of a dinner partner to herself, Ginny being Ginny, translating in the biggest overdramatizer ever. It was no easy feat to tame the wild readhead's ideas of "formal" and "conservative enough", but in the end (two and a half hours later) they both agreed on a chic sleeveless jumpsuit in burgundy that went a bit above her ankles and a pair of black pumps that made her legs look miles long.

They were walking side by side along Diagonally, to a place he refused to name, something about "the element of surprise".

There was a sense of comfort and lightness between them, a familiarity she couldn't quite place the origins of. Their bickering was half-hearted and the silence while they strolled was from the pleasant kind. She almost felt sorry for the man, having no other business tonight but to indulge her pretenses.

"Do you think I could be on top of the list?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Sorry?"

"Britain's most eligible bachelor. Front page. Millions of women swooning after me and my money. Goody-two-shoes Hermione Granger caught by the paparazzi on a dinner with me. Sounds about right?" He was smirking in the most irritable way now.

"You're impossible. For your information, I'm already quite familiar with what it's like to be associated with the leading numbers from that despicable list. Harry and I've both received death threats just because we've had lunch together a couple of times. It's really not that glorious."

"You and Potter–?"

"Best friends and nothing more. Ronald on the other hand was an entirely different story I will not discuss with you."

"Wasn't dying to hear about Weaselbee anyhow. Change the subject?"

She immediately went for the most obvious question.

"How and why did you know where my flat was? And why did you decide it would be casually un-stalker-like to wait for me to come out, right at my doorstep?"

"Ah, the secret ways of a true gentleman. We never set a meeting spot, did we? Where would you have gone if it weren't for my thoughtfulness and good manners?"

"I– well, I suppose I was going to try in the Ministry and, given you weren't there, go to your home."

She hadn't anticipated a visit to the Ministry but she also feared he had reconsidered her offer and would leave her hanging. If hunting him down meant getting her answers, then so be it.

"Fairly straightforward, but I expected nothing less from you. Granger, you do know that a man is supposed to treat you like a lady, not make you run laps in search for him?"

"I prefer to think a lady can run a lap or two."

"I prefer to not cause you such discomfort, especially not in these shoes."

"Well, that's very kind of you but I'd rather be warned before you decide to come by."

"Was that an invitation now?" He winked at her. Where did this boyish flirtatious Malfoy _come from_? She was positively bemused.

"A mere warning if you value your health." But her threat came out as a joke, voice trembling with laughter.

"All words and no actions, Granger. Typical Gryffindor. At least my house acted on our words."

"I will hex you to your dungeons and back."

"You'll have to wait until after dinner because we're here."

He stopped abruptly forcing her to trip on her own feet and lunge forward, Hermione merely managing to not fall face-flat on the pavement. She threw him a dirty look but regained her balance.

"Such a klutz for a medic."

"So insufferable for a gentleman!"

They entered the nondescript little door, a wave of warmth and the scent of freshly cooked food hit their faces and enveloped their cool bodies. The view from the outside was nothing like the interior. The place turned out to be a tavern called "The Eolian", as the sign read, big enough to fit more than a few dozen customers. A small stage formed the center of the hall, a boy no older than 15 was tuning the strings of his lute, apparently preparing for a performance. The tables were full but not stuffed so they easily found a spot close enough to enjoy the music but remote enough to hear each other clearly. She was hypnotized by the atmosphere of the place, it had nothing in common with the pubs and inns that filled each and every gap in Wizarding London. If Hermione had to guess, she would probably say she was no longer in the same city nor country.

"I hope you don't think you'll evade my questions by distracting me with music for the entire time."

But she was pretty sure she'd be too entranced to even remember said questions.

Instead of answering, he just said:

"You'll see."

* * *

The next hour was a time to be alive. The second the boy touched the instrument with the intention to play, people forswore their conversations and fell into a trans. The soft, slow sounds became one with the air in the room, resonating, whirling, at times jumping around in a mystical dance. It wasn't a pretty, romantic song, it was demanding and provocative. It became fast and then reverted back to slow in no particular order, yet at the right time. But Draco wasn't looking at the show, instead his eyes laid on Hermione's face, her eyes transfixed and yet so very focused on the musician, lips parted and hands tightly held in a knot in her lap. He wanted this particular moment to never end, just to be able to look at her dreamy expression, so lovingly meant for the boy with the lute.

It was all over far too fast, the music ceased and her consciousness came back into place.

"That was the most exquisite music I've ever heard in my entire life, and I've heard plenty."

"I'm glad you agreed that I am the best business date you've had."

"You're the best going-out I've had so far, to be completely honest."

He stared at her disbelievingly. Now, that was new.

"Who knew a little music could tame Granger-danger. Almost like a Cerberus."

"Oh, shut it before you ruin this."

He probably really should shut up before he messed up.

The food tasted exactly as it smelled – homemade and unpretentiously delicious. Pots of porridge and pans of paellas came full and left empty, both of them completely oblivious to manners or etiquette, simply enjoying a meal as if they were the oldest friends or the oddest couple.

They stopped only after their stomached could fit no more than a glass of butter beer each.

"So– what do you feel comfortable talking about?"

She decided to fire a safe shot first.

His eyebrows did a little dance that said enough of what he meant.

"Merlin, Malfoy, you're like a third-year. Come off it and answer so we can get this over with."

"I didn't know you were so eager to "get this over with"."

Draco felt a sting in his chest. It mostly started out like this. Where did he mess up this time?

"Don't get this the wrong way, Malfoy, I agreed to this on clear terms. I need to do my research so I don't have purebloods trying to kill me every once and awhile."

His anger began budding up in the back of his mind. She always had to have a big, flooding mouth.

"You could use a bit of your endless sodding compassion and throw it our way sometimes, you know."

"Don't speak of things you don't understand! I've seen nothing but cruelty and occasional civility from your family and friends. My compassion only goes this far. Did you know, the scar still stings sometimes."

She pulled her wand from a charmed pocked on her thigh. He nearly jumped back in an attempt to defend himself but she just aimed it at her left arm, lifting a glamour charm and revealing his worst nightmare, only it was worse in reality. That day still haunted his dreams and his vision, uglier and more grotesque than he remembered it, or maybe he chose to forget the details that his subconsciousness tried to remind him of. People from neighboring tables were now looking at the couple of them and he felt such embarrassment and shame, because that scar was from him, his own hands that did nothing to stop the words being carved in Hermione's flesh. Draco grabbed her good arm tightly, threw a load of coins on the table and apparated.

"What the f–"

"Obliviate!"


	4. Force of nature

**Edit:** I reuploaded an edited longer version because the original one was a disaster.

I wholeheartedly apologize for the delay but in my defense I will say this: screwdriver, candlestick, fish. Thank you. Please do leave a review and tell me what you think, I love how some of you got confused by the last chapter and I do promise things will become much clearer soon. Stay safe and talk to you next time!

* * *

Draco immediately knew something was terribly wrong, right from the moment he felt his apparition was somehow being tugged to one side, to when his spell, meant to erase that horrid night out of Hermione's mind, hit a Protego and bounced off uselessly. But maybe the most telltale sign that he was standing on extraordinarily thin ice was the witch before him, a wall of fury and disbelief, meddled with the prickling sensation of her magic radiating in waves, a sight he was sure no man lived to tell the tale of.

" _You nasty, loathsome, evil little snake!_ " She spat in his face, her voice resembling the growl of a rabid animal.

Right then and there he realized he was going to die and he knew he had dug his own grave. But Draco didn't have time to review his life choices right now because the monstrous woman in front of him raised the wand she was still clutching in her hand since back from the tavern and pointed it at his chest. Hermione wasted no time and bombarded him with an arsenal of nonverbal spells, some of which he had to explore his acrobatic skills in order to dodge. He couldn't even counter-cast, let alone manage a defense. She moved with the grace of an assassin, not a step too much or less, her mane had taken the form of a stormy cloud, electricity sparkling at the ends of it. He was certain that if any of her spells hit him, he'd be sent straight beyond the vail. A particularly well aimed one crashed in a wall behind him, blowing a hole right through it with a deafening rumble.

He froze. His gaze slowly moved from the gaping hole to a breathless (and non lethal for now) Hermione, his eyes unbelieving and offended.

"That would have blown me up!"

"That was the plan!"

He was clearly underestimating his situation here.

"Look, Granger," he tried with a different approach.

She took a step backwords.

"Do not come any closer or Merlin help me, I will not miss again."

Draco needn't be told twice.

"Alright, alright," he changed quietly. If he were to be honest with himself and if it weren't for the unfortunate circumstances, he would have told her she looked beautiful. She really did, reminding him of those ancient creatures that folktales describe to be as deadly as they were alluring. He admired the flush on her skin and the rise of her chest, lips parted to ease her breathing. It would have been a delightful image if he didn't fear for his life.

But then he noticed something far more terrifying than her magic and wrath, he saw tears begging to gloss her fiery eyes, still piercing through him like daggers. No curse could have stunned him as much as this did. He had never seen or heard of her crying.

Draco hated it. Hated it to the point he had to look elsewhere, as if that would make the tears disappear. Shame exploded within his mind, heated his face and neck. His chest tightened painfully because she didn't deserve this, and he sure as hell didn't have the right to inflict her any more pain and sorrow. This is how this loophole started out in the first place and now he found himself stuck right at the end of it. Draco stepped towards her. He would fix this. Tell her. Endure her punishment and return to his pitiful excuse of a life with a slightly clearer conscience.

* * *

Hermione's mind was fogged with emotions she thought she could withhold but the knot in her throat proved that wrong. Where they came from she did not know. She wanted to pulverize Malfoy to pieces but not nearly as much as she wanted to repeatedly slam her own head in the wall for being so obnoxiously stupid as to let her guard down in front of a completely unpredictable lunatic. What was she thinking, offering an ex-Death eater to have a chit-chat over dinner? Merlin knows what could have happened if she had been a moment slower with her shield, but the choice of his spell had frightened her more. Hermione had managed to redirect his apparation to the first place that popped in her mind in the midst of the initial shock, that being her parents' street, specifically a tight, closed alley, mere feet away from their house but that wouldn't have helped her if he had managed to wipe her memory clean. And yet, his behaviour up until now had been more than puzzling, dodging all of her offenses and then looking at her like a lost puppy. Confusion was not a feeling Hermione was comfortable with.

She knew something was not right, she quite literally felt her brain ticking and tacking, trying to make sense of the situation but a missing screw was disrupting the process. Confusion was not something she tolerated. Her anger was fueled by an unexplainable sense of betrayal, a feeling Malfoy shouldn't be able to provoke in her. Her mind itched like a mosquito bite and she knew that getting it out on him wouldn't bring anything more than a temporary satisfaction, followed by a million unanswerable questions.

And now he apparently had a death wish, crossing the distance between them like that. She angrily swiped her eyes clear and aimed her wand with the intention to stun him and get the hell out of there. A bright red light shot the staggered wizard in the stomach.

But instead of immobilizing him immediately as it should have, he was thrown a couple of feet backwards and on his back with a force brutal enough to make him bounce off the ground and slam back down. His body froze in an awkwardly bent position, legs spread in a failed attempt to keep his balance and hands clutching his stomach where the Stupefy had struck.

A few moments passed before Hermione could comprehend what had just happened, for the second time today. That was until she noticed a streak of dark blood spilling from the edge of his mouth and down his cheek. She cursed.

* * *

"Hermione Jean Granger, when I said you should find yourself a partner I did not mean _that!_ "

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying. Midnight passed, my daughter dubiously knocking on her old folks' door, carrying a bleeding pretty boy over her shoulders! If your mother wakes up we will all be dead and gone."

"Father, I swear to God," she really needed to examine him _now_ instead of giving explanations to her dad.

"Place him on the sofa. Once pretty boy isn't bleeding out we need to talk."

"Roger that."

Hermione laid him carefully on the cushions and cast monitoring charms on his vital organs. The force of her spell must have struck and pierced an organ which was now filling his stomach with blood and fluids at a rapid speed. She needed to work from the outside because they couldn't afford to lose more blood with incisions and she had no tools to safely work with. It wasn't unheard of to cause internal body damage with simple charms like that, a caster's emotional state gravely affects the result of their spells after all. What made her hot with guilt was that she had lost so much control, enough to cause such damage on a person, a certain dangerous criminal or not.

Hermione worked carefully throughout the next half an hour, pumping the blood out of the cavities and simultaneously stitching up the intestines that had suffered from the blow. The damage was minor but if they had lost a bit more time in walking and talking, he would have been in vital danger. The stunning spell had long expired but he was still blissfully unconscious, unlike Hermione who was dealing with an enourmous amount of dilemmas - kill him on the spot or not, cry from shame or not, ask dad for a hug or for an advice, fall in the corner of the couch and sleep through the next few days until this night was just a long dream or stay up to monitor his state until her woke up and then she'd have to _talk_ and _explain_ and _apologize_.

Her dad was sitting quietly on one of the armchairs, carefully observing his daughter's pained expression and body language.

"Angel, you did what was right. No matter who he is or what happened between you. The only thing I personally regret is not locking your mother in the bedroom, because she will give us hell —"

"Goodness gracious, what in the world is going on —" Before they knew it, Monica Granger was descending from the stairs in her modest night gown, first thing noticing everybody in the room, next thing she was screaming with a high girly voice.

"Is that Draco Malfoy!?"

And just on time, hearing his name, Draco opened his eyes to see an angel and her parents. _Kill me now,_ they both thought.


	5. A memory relived

He felt a violent punch in his guts and then fell into a state of immobilizing shock, followed by a blackout. Only it wasn't really a blackout, not for his subconsciousness at least, because pictures started playing before him, images of Hermione from the X day.

It was when he had first seen her, almost a decade after his trial and her testimony, that he had decided to catch her attention, though not in the good sense at first. She had been sulking over a cup of tea in a tiny bistro on Diagonally, alone and deep in thoughts. He had seen the perfect opportunity to distract himself from his afternoon weariness and also to have a bit of fun for old time's sake.

At least that was the plan until she had caught him staring from outside the showcase and waved for him to go in. Once he faced her, he was met with a friendly, simple smile that was the first real one he had seen in a very long while. She had sat him down and ordered him a cup of tea of her choice (to which he hadn't objected) and very slowly, the ice that had been growing into an iceberg between them for as long as they knew each other started breaking.

She had talked and asked and listened for what seemed like hours. About his work, about his life and how he had been going about with all that had happened during and after the War. Whatever he had initially wanted to spit at her disappeared down his throat because she had simply shown civility. Of course, it had been obvious even then that she was trying hard to maintain the friendly tone, she was lying nobody about that. But he hadn't minded.

Draco longed for a spiracle, for an air hole to just breathe through without having to grind his teeth and bite his tongue. So he didn't attempt to offend her or to push away her notorious kindness because, frankly, he needed it. His career's successes was based on hard work, at least double as hard as everybody else, endured glares and mockery, threats and distrust. Draco wasn't bothered by imbeciles and their thoughts of him but he had soon realized that it affected his personal life. His so called friends, who were in no better place than him, had started closing up in their own isolated worlds because one thing is to have a difficult friendship, another is to have a famously hated man to be associated with you. It was only occasional owls and visits to check if he was still alive. But Draco couldn't blame them, he'd probably do the same in their shoes. And so he took whatever he could get, his dignity dangling on a straw of well-played nonchalance and famous affluence.

His cup had gone empty and dry before she had looked at her watch and announced she had to go. He had offered to send her out which now, looking back, was the first big mistake to set the begging of his undoing.

People talk and he had forgotten.

So when the infamous Draco Malfoy went out in close proximity to the heroine of the century Hermione Granger things went downhill pretty quickly. Draco's memories of what played out after that were unclear, the details stored in a little vial, on of many hidden inside a trinket box in his bedroom. But he remembered the look of disbelief and the familiar anger, both in her eyes and stirring in his stomach. In a moment of cowardice and fury he had drawn his wand and released her of the memory of him from that day. He thought it would be better that way, easier and safer for her.

Not once had he regretted being right so much. But that didn't stop him from messing up again, did it?

She could feel moisture in her palms and over her brow. The silence was almost deafening, especially when all she could hear were her own thoughts. "I almost killed a man. With a stunning spell! What in Godrick's name was a thinking?"

At this moment she was sitting on her father's wooden chair beside the couch and the half-conscious Malfoy sprawled on it. Her mother had stopped halfway down the staircase, hands wrapped around her peignoir. It seemed like everybody had decided to partake in the quiet choir until Malfoy suddenly sprang upwards with a shout and then quickly fell down on his back, clutching his stomach.

"Sit still!" she scolded and put a hand on his forehead. It was flaming hot. A fever was nothing she couldn't handle.

"Mom. Mother, snap out of it. Can you fetch me an ibuprofen tablet and a glass of water? Now please?"

Her mother nodded sheepishly and climbed the stairs back up again.

Hermione brushed away a few strands of sticky blond locks off his forehead. But then Draco grabbed her wrist and pulled her entirely towards him, close enough so he could whisper in her ear.

"I'm sorry. I'll explain everything. Just let me go now."

"Like hell I am! You have an internal hemorrhage, Malfoy. Whatever crap you have in that brain of yours, get it out. You're staying here until I'm convinced you won't splinch yourself in half when you Apparate." she didn't bother keeping her voice down.

He was looking daggers at her now, a strange sort of pride and stubbornness mixed in.

"Will you for once just do as you're told?"

"I'd rather stab myself in the eyeball than do what you tell me. You entirely brought this on yourself!"

"Ahem." a third voice came in between. "As charming as this meeting is, I'll go check if your mother found that tablet. Oh and boy, you will answer to me how and why you got my daughter so worked up in the middle of the night. And it better be a good story, or else…"

"Dad!"

"And if you weren't an adult, you'd be grounded, young lady!" but he gave her a knowing wink before leaving the room.

Hermione sighed. A couple of hours in wizarding London and here they are, stress and blood, her old friends. She looked down at the reason for all this and couldn't help but imagine locking him in her office and using him for uncertified experiments. A ferret he was.

"If you wanted to do something, you should have done it when I was alone at work."

He stared wide-eyed and she noticed a faint redness stain his ears.

"I– not like that, you prick!

He hid his embarrassment with a fake cough and looked away.

"I meant, if you wanted to obliviate me, as you attempted, you should have tried when I was in my cabinet, not in the middle of the street. You could have spared an injury or two but I can't guarantee you wouldn't have been in court by now."

"I never intended to." he said quietly.

"Oh, I'm sure! And what, Voldemort never meant to kill people, right?"

She knew she'd gone too far even before finishing the sentence because he was up on his feet in a heartbeat, tall and broad, looming over her with stormy grey eyes that had nothing to do with the shame-filled pale blue ones that she had seen seconds ago. There was no anger nor hurt to twist his face, it was all in his glare.

"Despite what they fed you in school, Granger, you do not understand everything. In fact, I'd say you understand very little of what the reality truly is. You always think you're on top of every situation but you'd be surprised how far behind you are, especially when you flaunt that big mouth of yours like that."

"You make absolutely no sense!"

"Then don't pretend like you understand."

And with that he grabbed his wand from the coffee table and disappeared.

"Dear, I think I found an old packet– oh," her mom found her alone and perplexed, even more so when tears started pricking down her cheeks.


	6. Down the rabbit hole

_It's been a minute here, hasn't it. I guess life has caught up to me, but I vow! There shall be an update soon. Thank you for your lovely comments and don't forget to leave some more because I feed on them._

* * *

"So... Granger?"

"Yes, Theo – Granger, do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"No, I do understand who you're talking about but I really don't get why you have your panties in such a twist. I mean, it's been years since you last exchanged passive-aggressive sexually-frustrated insults. Shouldn't we all be laughing about those times yet? Ha-ha?"

Draco's expression was a shifting picture of annoyance and disbelief.

"Merlin– remind me why I haven't sent you flying arse-first back into the fireplace you came from."

"Because you're a lonesome loser who's in desperate need of an excellent friend, such as I, and also because you happen to enjoy my company more than your own."

"Sending birthday cards and occasionally checking if I haven't rotted here doesn't make you an excellent friend, Nott."

"You can talk after I get at least one 'Happy Birthday'."

"I'm not permitted to personal mail and you know it."

"Bollocks. I thought you get pardoned if one third of the Golden Trio sprinkles you with their magical dust of forgiveness."

"You're taking this way out of context."

"You never gave me a context to begin with!"

Theodore Nott, seemingly not aged a day since he turned 20, now 28, with the same boyish smile, only now accompanied with a devilish spark in his eyes, was Draco's closest definition of a friend. Once the quiet, cool Slytherin had now become a heartthrob for not one witch in England, sighs about his "deep dark gaze" and "oh, his long, tied brown hair!" followed the man everywhere and more or less pulled him away from the tight grasp of the past. But he never forgot it. His subtly shown care for Draco was a reminder for that.

Theo had sprawled rather comfortably in an armchair across his host, a cup of firewhiskey and ice in one hand, fingertips drumming on the armrest. One ankle was resting atop his leg almost giving him a bored look but Draco knew better. He was intrigued and awaiting for something to bite onto. And did Draco have a whole lot to offer!

"I told you. I got… associated with her, a month ago. But then this fucking kid called her– well, insulted her in public and I lost it." He was massaging his temples in an attempt to loosen the headache. "She didn't deserve that."

"Ah, so you were the knight in shiny armor. I still don't get where the problem is."

A pause.

"I obliviated her."

Theo chocked on his gulp and doubled over his legs to spit whatever was left on the floor.

"You– you mean the kid, right? Not _Hermione-capable-of-murder-Granger_ , right?"

"Well… both."

"Sweet Salazar, I'll bring a brick to your funeral. Are you that dense? What were you thinking?"

Draco growled angrily.

"I was thinking that the nicest, most normal conversation I've had in almost a decade had been tainted for both me and her! I thought– I thought, might as well just make her forget all about it. Do you know how she looked at me when I nearly broke that child's head on the pavement. Like I was a fucking monster, Nott. I don't need that."

"You need to sign up for an anger management class."

"You need to shove your head up your arse," he hissed.

"Impressively mature."

Theo was trying hard not to openly laugh but with no success. Draco's glare was so intense that his left eye began twitching.

"Okay, so, you obliviated her, and? No witnesses, no consequences."

"Yes, well, I may or may not have done it a couple more times. On separate occasions."

Theo raised his hands in defeat.

"Alright, now is the time I stand up and leave before you drag me into your evil genius plan to cook Granger's brains until she likes you. I do not wish to make out with Dementors, thank you very much. Theo-out!"

He indeed headed for the door but upon realizing he wasn't being stopped he turned around only to see a very lost-looking Malfoy. He sighed dramatically and demonstratively resumed his place on the armchair.

"Let's get one thing straight, alright. You like her?"

"No."

"But you've deliberately made her forget the three times you met her and fucked things up."

"Yes."

"Because?"

"Because it's easy. She lets her guard down too soon and she acts like we've been friends since forever. She alters herself to whatever mood I'm in and she tries so hard to be nice."

Theo shook his head in disappointment.

"She not your usual weekend shag, Draco. You can't toy with her like that because she makes you think it's easy."

Draco's anger began to bubble up dangerously again.

"Then why has she let me toy with her memory, hm?"

"Maybe she really does trust you. Who knows how mental she really is. Smart – yes, but sane? None of the Golden threesome has ever been right in the head."

Draco remained silent, staring out the window into the chilly afternoon hills spread across the Manor's lands. Both men were engulfed by their own thoughts for awhile until Theo arose to get a refill of his drink and poured an extra glass.

The sunset finally took its last beams of light away along with the little warmth it offered to the pretentious days of early autumn. Theo had left for home a few drinks before becoming too inadequate to use the floo which left Draco to lift the bottle himself, the words "Just talk to her, mate" flowing through his mind." Malfoys never get drunk" Lucius had once preached and Draco was now deeply resenting yet another family gift that was proving to be completely pointless. He'd give his right arm to pass out like a normal man.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in."

A tiny, wide eyed house elf entered the room, his little feet awkwardly tip-toeing on the floor as if he needed to go to the loo.

"What is it, Pen?"

"Master, Pen must inform you– there is a Miss waiting outside the gate, sir."

"Tell her it's not Sunday yet. To come back when she finds out how to get me drunk."

"With much respect, sir, Pen doesn't think it's one of those Misses."

"Even better, tell her to sod off."

"Yes, sir."

The elf disappeared behind the door. Draco finished the last few drops in the bottle and set it aside. He knew he was in no position to turn down potential bed-mates, that being the only form of a relationship any self-respecting woman wanted with him. Not to mention the volunteers weren't that many to begin with. Funny how a Dark Mark can be both appealing and repulsing, depending on which side of history you're on. Draco couldn't blame them, anyway. Sometimes he felt like clawing through the skin with his own fingernails. He wondered if the flesh underneath was stained as well, if the dirt was engraved on his bones. It would itch, occasionally, and he'd scratch until it hurt, until lines of wounds would cut through the skull and snake. But in the end it always healed, far too quick and traceless.

" –perfectly fine, Pen! Just a few minutes, alright?"

A chill ran down Draco's back and a jolt of unpleasantly sharp energy got him up on feet. That voice, it came as if from deep under his mind, yet it sounded too real. She couldn't be here. Not in this house.

"Look, sweetie, I won't really hurt him. We'll just have a conversation."

It sounded like she was just outside his room. The next moment she was in it.

"Well, look at that, I expected to see a ferret but I guess it's just you."

She was bitterly glaring at him, lips pursed in the thinnest line imaginable and brow furrowed horribly.

"You promised my house elf you won't be trying to murder me. And I'm fairly certain he told you to sod off."

"Just because you think you can hide behind you finger doesn't mean I'll sir here and pretend it's working! I need explanations, and fast."

She pulled her insane hair off her face and gave him an expectant look.

"You know what you need, Granger?" he casually asked. "A good night spent with somebody with skilled hands."

"Oh, and I'm sure you're envisioning yourself, Malfoy. I'm guessing you've hand plenty of practice."

"Jealous?"

"Repulsed."

He chuckled.

"Did I say something funny?"

"You can't be repulsed by a skilled man."

"I can be, if the definition of s skilled man is a whore."

"I'm guessing you haven't had much of a sex life then."

"It is _none_ of your sodding business."

Her cheeks were a pure pink now. Who'd know teasing Granger like that'd be so much fun. Seeing her mad was one, but all flushed and uncomfortable like that – it was an entirely different thing.

"Oh, come now, did Won-Won disappoint?"

"You are walking on very thin ice, Malfoy." she hissed low.

"Or was it that he was just too plain and polite for your taste?" he even winked at her.

She launched at him with something nearly as terrifying as a wand – her bare hand, and slapped him across the face so hard his neck almost twisted 180 degrees back. His head immediately started pulsating painfully, a red-hot burn in the shape of her palm forming on his left cheek. She was looking at him with an icy lour, heaving for breath and massaging her fingers.

"I thought I could talk to you like to a human being. Seeing as you are not capable of an intelligent conversation, I'll never bother again. Have a great miserable life, Malfoy."

She turned on her heel and left the room in a rush.

Draco expected to feel immediate relief but the moment the door was loudly shut close, his chest tightened heavily. _I don't want her to leave._ Damn her. Why did it have to be the most difficult one.

He threw himself after her in a chase down the long hallway. She heard his footsteps and tuned, only to see a big male body fling probably a meter off the floor towards her. She screeched and covered her head instinctively but that left the better part of her body exposed and she felt the painful collision in her chest. The landed on the floor with a loud thud, him twisted so he could take most of the fall's impact, and her flopped rather ungracefully atop of him. Hermione immediately attempted to raise herself up and mince him into tiny edible pieces but his arms hovered over her back and locked her in a _very_ familiar embrace.

"I am sorry. I'm sorry. Don't run."


End file.
